The clock reads 2:18 a.m., and a persistent, dull ache in my right knee is competing for my attention—not enough to force a shift, but plenty to destroy my calm. The ground seems more unforgiving tonight than it was twenty-four hours ago, a physical impossibility that I nonetheless believe completely. Aside from the faint, fading drone of a far-off motorcycle, the room is perfectly quiet. I find myself sweating a bit, even though the night air is relatively temperate. My consciousness instantly labels these sensations as "incorrect."
The Anatomy of Pain-Plus-Meaning
The term "Chanmyay pain" arises as a technical tag for the discomfort. I didn’t ask for it; it simply arrives. What was once just sensation is now "pain-plus-interpretation."
The doubt begins: is my awareness penetrative enough, or am I just thinking about the pain? Am I feeding the pain by focusing on it so relentlessly? The raw pain is nothing compared to the complicated mental drama that has built up around it.
The "Chanmyay Doubt" Loop
I make an effort to observe only the physical qualities: the heat and the pressure. Then, uncertainty arrives on silent feet, pretending to be a helpful technical question. Maybe I'm trying too hard, forcing a clarity that isn't there. Or maybe I'm being lazy, or I've completely misinterpreted the entire method.
There is a fear that my entire meditative history is based on a tiny, uncorrected misunderstanding.
The fear of "wrong practice" is much sharper than any somatic sensation. I catch myself subtly adjusting my posture, then freezing, then adjusting again because it feels uneven. My muscles seize up, reacting to the forced adjustments with a sense of protest. I feel a knot of anxiety forming in my chest, a physical manifestation of my doubt.
Communal Endurance vs. Private Failure
I recall how much simpler it was to sit with pain when I was surrounded by a silent group of practitioners. Pain felt like a shared experience then. Now it feels personal, isolated. Like a solitary trial that I am proving to be unworthy of. The thought "this is wrong practice" repeats like a haunting mantra in my mind. The fear is that I'm just hardening my ego rather than dissolving it.
The Trap of "Proof" and False Relief
Earlier today I read something about wrong effort, and my mind seized it like proof. “See? This explains everything. You’ve been doing it wrong.” There is a weird sense of "aha!" mixed with a "no!" Relief because there is an explanation; panic because fixing it feels overwhelming. I am sitting here in the grip of both emotions, my teeth grinding together. I release the clench, but it's back within a minute. It’s an automatic reflex.
The Shifting Tide of Discomfort
The pain shifts slightly, which is more annoying than if it had stayed constant. I was looking for something stable to observe; I wanted a "fixed" object. Rather, it ebbs and flows, feeling like a dynamic enemy that is playing games with my focus. I attempt to meet it with equanimity, but I cannot. I note my lack of equanimity, and then I start an intellectual debate about whether that noting was "correct."
This uncertainty isn't a loud shout; it's a constant, quiet vibration asking if I really know what I'm doing. more info I don’t answer it, mostly because I don’t have an honest answer. My breath is shallow, but I don’t correct it. I’ve learned that forcing anything right now just adds another layer of tension to untangle later.
The sound of the clock continues, but I resist the urge to check the time. The sensation of numbness is spreading through my foot, followed by the "prickling" of pins and needles. I remain, though a part of me is already preparing to shift. It’s all very confused. All the categories have collapsed into one big, messy, human experience.
I am not leaving this sit with an answer. The discomfort hasn't revealed a grand truth, and the uncertainty is still there. I just sit here, aware that this confusion is part of the territory too, even if I don't have a strategy for this mess. Continuing to breathe, continuing to hurt, continuing to exist. Which feels like the only honest thing happening right now.